


Challenge Day

by PandoraMajora



Category: Red Dead Redemption, Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Insert, post-epilogue, rdr2 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 04:00:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17358539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandoraMajora/pseuds/PandoraMajora
Summary: You and John Marston get into some trouble while doing some challenges.





	Challenge Day

**Author's Note:**

> Based on my post-game adventures with John and trying to finish the challenges. Also how I envision the challenges work within the RDR2 world.

The horse bolted off the trail and through the woods. You clutched onto the man in front of you with one arm as you looked behind you. Your gun unholstered and ready to continue warding off anymore pursuers. The black steed could easily out run any pursuers, but just in case you had kept your eyes behind you.

Minutes passed and there were no signs of movement beyond the trees. The sounds of gun fire and shouting had ceased; you were sure the coast was clear.

You holstered your weapon.

“I don’t see anyone else. I think we’re good, John.”

The black mare suddenly leaped over a fallen tree, making you yelp at the unexpected jolt. Feeling yourself bounce out of the saddle and you scrabbled to hold onto John.

“Hold on,” John warned.

You huffed.

“You’re supposed to warn me before you do something like that….”  

Now settled behind John, arms around him, you realized he was maneuvering the horse back onto the trail to avoid any more trees and boulders. The area was also steadily inclining upwards making it difficult for the horse to maneuver off the trail.

Once she was back on the trail, the mare had no issues racing up the hill.   

“Settle!” John commanded, pulling on the horse's reigns. She came to a halt a top the hill in the heart of Roanoke Ridge.

Everything settled. The adrenaline that was surging through you slowly faded and the valley was quiet.

“Well, that was something,” You uttered.

“Sure was.”

John gave the mare a pat and whispered soothing words of praise to calm her. You climbed down to out across the ridge. You could see Brandywine Drop off in the distance and the Elysian Pool to the south.

After a few more moments of silence before turned before John turned to you.

“Was it really necessary trying to rob that stage when we were runnin’ from the law?”

“I mean the law was already after us?”

“The law ain't even on us until you tried stealing the stage,” John pointed out.

Maybe he was right….

You coughed.

“Hey, at least we took care of THREE challenges back there!” You reached into your satchel, pulling out the passport looking booklet. “It would have been four if that guy in the stagecoach would have just let us take it.”

You shrugged.

“You ain't nothin’ but trouble you know that, Miss [Name]?”

“Only for you.” You batted your eyes at him, hiding your smirk behind the passport. “You gotta admit it though. That was a good headshot. It had to be at least 700 feet!”

John had to agree with you. He knew Arthur had a hand in teaching you to shoot. But seeing your own natural talent made him realize that perhaps he was giving Arthur too much credit for your marksmanship. John made a mental to start working on overcoming his unconscious biases.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

You grinned at John before flipping though the pages of the booklet.

“We'll rest a few more minutes before heading out towards Emerald Ranch,” he said looking at his pocket watch. “Sun’s goin’ down in soon and I know just how much you love the Ridge at night.”

You cringed visibly, a chill running through you, making John chuckle. He moved next to you, looking over you should to examine the pages of the passport.  He nodded down at the booklet.

“How's that work anyway?”

“I honestly don’t know,” you admitted. “I just do the challenges listed, and a stamp shows up after completing them. I stopped questioning it after the first few.”

You turned a paged.

“Oh, that's right! We got those recipes from the fence. I can work on this challenge while we wait.” You handed John the book. “Here, hold that for a sec.”

You reached into John’s satchel, pulling out a leather-bound book with loose pieces of paper haphazardly shoved inside it. You shuffled through the mess of papers. The book was supposed to have the various notes and maps you two came across during your adventures, but none of it was neatly organized. John would fold the papers and shoved them into the book with little thought.

“John!” You scolded. “Your organization skills are horrid. Arthur was never this messy!”

 “Well, can’t say my life ain't any less messy than my organizational skills,” John said dully.  

You snorted.

“True.”

You flipped through the book again, still not finding the recipes. You were beginning to become frustrated. You must have flipped through the book more than five times now. You were about to turn the page when John stopped you.

“You realize you been passin’ the recipes?”

“What? Why didn't you say anything, John?!” You felt like throwing the book at his head. It had to have been more than five minutes since you’ve started searching for those damn pieces of paper.

“Guess I rather enjoy seeing you vexed.”

“Hilarious.”

You grabbed the first folded piece of paper that had POISON ARROWS written on it. There was even a crudely drawn arrowhead with a skull next to it. You unfolded it and proceeded to read it out loud.

“Ingredients: arrow and poison!”

“Who would’ve guessed? Not us that’s for damn sure. Seein’ as we had to buy the damn recipe.” John chuckled.  

You slapped his shoulder.

“ ** _Stop._** ”

Continuing to skim the recipe, you collected what you needed from the horse’s saddle. You remembered Arthur having poison arrows in his arsenal, but you never bothered asking him or anyone else how make the poison.

Overall it couldn't be that difficult to make a poison arrow, right? Just reinforce the arrow and dip it into the poison mix, easy!

 

\--

 

The arrow didn't take long to make, as you predicted. The poison you mixed could be used to make a few more arrows, so you decided why the hell not? You might as well. You didn’t want to have to store the poison. Knowing John, he'd grab it without reading the label and drink it thinking it was a tonic. You spared a glance over at said man. He was now occupied with Arthur’s old journal. No doubt writing about how much a pain in his ass you were.

You were both so preoccupied with what you were doing that you failed to hear the approaching horse. It wasn't until the man called out to you that you realize he was there.

“You best come from the slaughterhouse,” he scoffed.

“Yes sir,” John replied without missing a beat.

You glanced up at the passerbyer and your eyes widened.

It was a lawman.

You quickly looked back down at your hands, trying to remain inconspicuous.

You glanced down at your shirt then over at John's, seeing the blood.

The blood the man was referring to was no doubt from your failed attempt at stealing the stagecoach. The driver of the stagecoach had pulled a gun on you after you tried pulling him off. John shot the gun from his hand and you finished him off when he tried grabbing your neck. The blood from man's had gotten on your shirt and hands, which you then got all over John when you held onto him while escaping.

The blood was much more visible on John, however, thanks to the white button up he had on.

The lawman continued on his way, making his way down the trail.

You bolted up, beginning to shove your supplies into your bag.

Had the lawman not noticed something was off? It wasn't the first time you were recognized despite wearing masks. It was usually your distinctive fashion choices and the blood that gave you away.

John moved to his horse, grabbing his gun from the saddle. He watched the man carefully. You moved next to him, at the ready.

“He don't know who we are yet.” John said quietly. “If we—

“Hold on a minute.” The lawman's voice cut in from a distance. “You're that piece of shit!”

Your eyes looked past John to see the lawman riding towards you, gun drawn.

He fired, the bullets whizzing by you.

You gave your black mare a pat on its rear, signaling for it to get out of the line of fire as John quickly turned to return fire. One shot hitting the lawman in the shoulder, the other just missing the man's head.

The lawman’s horse rode straight towards you. He was nearly on top of you now.

The horse reared back as the lawman turned to fired again at John, who had now moved back a ways from you.

John shot again, keeping the man's attention was solely on him: big mistake.

The lawman yelled profanities towards John before shooting one last time. Having shot his sixth round, he began to reload his revolver. It was then that you let your readied poison arrow fly.  

The arrow hit him in the side of his head, hitting its mark: the temple. You watched his body slumped forward on his horse before falling over. The man’s foot caught in the horse’s stirrup, causing his body to be dragged away by the frightened horse.

John, quick on his feet, sprinted back to you.

“If they didn't know we was here before, they do now.”

He called for black mare and hopped onto her. Then in one fluid movement he pulled you up behind him.

“Let's go!” John gave the mare a gently kick and she bolted down the side of hill and off the beaten trail.

It was surprising to see a lawman come this deep into the woods alone. This was Murfree country after all. This could mean there were men searching for you nearby. Or perhaps this lawman really was stupid enough to wander out here alone.

“If we're lucky, they might think it was Murfree Brood that got him?”

“If we're lucky, we won't run into any of those inbred bastards trying to get out of here.”

 

 --

 

_Emerald Ranch, New Hanover_

_5:17 am_

 

**_“Sir!”_ **

The postal man was jolted from slumber. He had fallen asleep at his post, again. You snickered as you watched him scramble off his chair. Composing himself, the middle-aged man walked to the teller’s window.

“Mornin’, sir.” John greeted again, leaning against the counter. “We, uh, got some _bills_ we'd like to pay.”

The man eyed you both over, noticing the blood.

He cleared his throat.

“No need to explain further. I'd rather not know.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how many of you have been to a Mcmenamins, but the restaurant chain has a passport which you use to get stamps from their various locations. They have different tasks for you to do to get stamps (dinning, attending concerts, staying at their hotels, etc.) and you get prizes for collecting the stamps. I like to think that's how the challenges work in-game; but with a bit of a mystical twist of course.  
> Anyways, if you liked this fic and want to see more, let me know in the comments! (I'm trying to get back into writing after a very long break and I'm hoping doing some small RDR2 Reader fics will help out.)


End file.
